The Way of the Black Beast (11 page)

"This is ridiculous. Why should I listen to any of this?"

The walls rippled as if seen through a waterfall. Barris lowered his head. "I'm sorry. If we stay any longer, your brain may be damaged."

"Then answer quickly. Why should I listen? And what exactly did you do to Tommy? And why do I need your Chi-Chun? And —"

Barris became transparent even as he sighed all too real. "You'll have to answer it for yourself. Goodbye, Malja."

"Wait. Tell me something. Anything. Why are the Bluesmen trying to stop me?"

The jolt of fear and surprise that hit Barris spread across the fading office. He said something, but only an odd childlike voice — several steps out of synch and speaking in a language that sounded made-up — followed his moving lips. When he disappeared completely, Malja felt a giant force shove her through darkness. Another force grabbed her inside the chest and yanked hard enough to cause an unheroic squeal.

Malja opened her eyes. Fawbry, Tommy, and Tumus were all lying by the dock. Malja sat up and scanned the hazy lake. Barris was gone.

Nobody was happy. Tommy crouched on the rocks clutching his arm as if it had been broken. Tumus, the Chi-Chun woman, stood near the dock watching the lake — her mouth open, her face stoic, her mind lost in disbelief. Knee-high in the water, his worn but flashy robe soaking, Fawbry kicked and splashed and screamed.

"You bastard! Come back here. You can't do this to me. This isn't right. Come back here."

Malja didn't care about Fawbry, and she didn't care about Tumus. At that moment, she wanted only to hold Tommy and ease any suffering Barris had caused him. Yet she could not move. She watched Tommy rubbing his arm and wondered if this marked the beginning, if the magician in him would now take over, if the little boy she had rescued would cease to exist, if madness waited to consume him. She tried not to look across his skin for the new tattoo. She snuck a peek anyway — not a brave approach but she couldn't bear to let Tommy see her face if he, indeed, had a new marking. A wave of relief crashed over when she did not see it. But if he lacked the tattoo, then Barris had done something else to him. Perhaps something worse.

"I won't do it," Fawbry said, now sobbing into the lake. "I don't care about what you want."

The sun rose. Malja wondered how long they had been unconscious and how long they had been in communion with Barris. A new day awoke around them, and for her part she wanted to make it worthwhile. Cole Watts. Find him to find Jarik and Callib. Find them and put an end to the constant gnawing, constricting, worrying tension in the middle of her chest that even thoughts of Gregor could not ease.

"I refuse," Fawbry went on. "You hear that, you big bastard? I refuse!"

With a tinge of pleasure, Malja turned toward Fawbry. This she could handle. "Fawbry, get out of the water."

Her voice cut through his panic. He stopped screaming at the lake and looked over his shoulder. Dripping with confusion and fear like an abused pet, he shook his head. "He was supposed to keep me safe. Not send me off with you."

"Where do I find Cole Watts?"

Fawbry pouted at the lake. "I don't want to go there. I don't want to go to the Freelands."

"You don't have to. Tell me where in the Freelands, and I'll go by myself. You can stay here. All of you can. Just stay here where it's safe."

Everyone stopped their personal mourning and stared at Malja. Fawbry even stumbled a few steps away from her. Nobody said a word.

Tommy broke the silence first. Pushing himself to his feet, he let out a single, puppyish whimper. He walked to her side, cold determination set in his eyes, and huffed as if to say
Don't even think about arguing.
Malja had no such intention. She had expected Tommy to come. No matter how angry he might be, he wouldn't leave her. Not yet. But she needed Fawbry for information — not just Cole Watts's location, but his connections, his importance. Everything Fawbry could provide, she wanted.

Tumus's dark face twisted in a tug-of-war. Her lips quivered, and for a moment, Malja feared she would have two blubbering fools to contend with. But with a garbled shout and a rude gesture to the lake, Tumus stomped over to Tommy.

One more.

Fawbry still shook his head. "I'm not a fighter. I'm not brave. I'm not smart. I'm just trying to survive."

"You're more than that," Malja said. "You're the one who got us across the river. You're the one who fed us so well that morning. And as for brave, the only reason we're here at this lake is because you stood up to me. Now, you know where Cole Watts is, and you know Barris wants you to help me."

He crossed his arms. "Okay. I'll tell you. Then you can go off and take care of it all and it doesn't matter to me. I'll be here."

"Except Barris wants you with me. Can you guarantee he'll protect you when you go against his wishes? I don't know. I don't think you'll be as safe with him as you think. Come with me, and you know I'll protect you. And it's what he wants. Really, your situation hasn't changed that much. I'm still your safest bet."

Fawbry thought this over for a second and slapped the water hard. While wiping his eyes, he trudged out of the lake. "I hate you."

* * * *

As they approached the last hill before reaching the Muyaza village, Malja's concern for Tommy's welfare grew. Illness had set in fast. His face burned with fever while his body shuddered against her. Holding the horse's reins in one hand and clutching Tommy to her breast with the other, Malja made the silent promise that should anything happen to Tommy, she would kill Barris Mont.

Fawbry and Tumus shared the other horse a few feet behind. Neither said much except for the occasional complaint against the placement of one's hand or the smell of the other's body.

Cresting the hill, Malja saw the Muyaza village already buzzing in the morning's work. A short line formed outside the village where the requisite two boys sought payment for the crossing. One spied the horses and their riders. Recognition ignited astonishment. With frantic gestures, he pointed them out to the adult males standing in the distance.

"Guess word's gotten out about us," Fawbry said — his first words since they had left the lake.

Malja reached over, flipped open the saddlebag, and produced a dead rabbit. She had caught it when the little thing made the mistake of crossing the dirt road they rode on. It wasn't much, but she hoped it would be enough. If it wasn't, then she knew other ways to get what she wanted.

Before the fierce Muyaza male had stopped his approach, he waved them off. "No," he said. "No welcome here."

Malja tossed the dead rabbit onto the ground.

The Muyaza scoffed at the offering, the stumps on his sides bristling. "No good."

"The horse," Fawbry said.

Malja looked over her shoulder in shock as Fawbry dismounted and pulled Tumus off. He walked the horse up to the Muyaza and handed him the reins. The Muyaza looked at the reins in his hand with even greater shock than Malja.

Fawbry glanced up to Malja. "We can always get another horse." For a fleeting moment, the words unnerved her — people rarely thought the way she did, let alone actually acted upon such thoughts.

The Muyaza looked back at the village and then at Malja. He inspected the horse, licking his lips as he ran a hand over the meaty rump. Something at the village made him hesitate, though. With an incredulous shake of the head, he bent down, picked up the dead rabbit, and walked the horse back to the village. The others followed.

They entered the main circle of homes, and the village stopped. The cooking stopped. The talking stopped. Even the ceaseless eating stopped. Only the sizzle of meat and the rumble of boiling stew disrupted the uneasy silence. At length, a woman assigned a Muyaza team to Malja and her friends. Nobody seemed eager to move, but the woman spat out a few words and business returned to its usual pace.

With the old Muyaza upon his litter and the protective bubble formed, Malja's group entered the river. The villagers snuck glances but refused to meet Malja's eyes. The air felt colder than the previous crossing, the water less welcoming, the bubble less secure. The litter carriers exchanged worried looks. Malja gripped Tommy tighter and tried to ignore the rising water. After a few minutes, Malja noticed Tumus had edged her way to the right side of the horse and placed her hand on Tommy's foot. Fawbry walked ahead near the litter.

Something was wrong.

Malja felt it vibrating deep within like the coming of an earthquake. More than just fear of drowning — this was her warrior instincts shooting off. When the river had risen to the point that only her head and that of the old Muyaza on the litter broke the surface, she saw it. There were no other litters in the water. Despite people bustling and cooking and trading, nobody else had entered the river.

She looked back at the shore. Searching. The tall Bluesman stood out clearly against the little Muyaza village — gray beard and clouded eye. The Muyaza stayed far behind him. They fretted about, but none would challenge the strange man. He raised a lengthy pipe — no, not a pipe — a rifle. Before Malja could warn anybody, the muzzle flared and a crack rolled across the air. The bullet splashed a few feet upriver.

"Faster," Malja said but she didn't need to — the carriers had picked up the pace. She checked the shore. The Bluesman went through the reloading process with the careful and efficient motions of a trained soldier. When he lifted the rifle to aim, Malja leaned over Tommy, pushing him lower to the horse's neck. The shot snapped out and the head of the old man on the litter exploded.

The bubble surrounding them tore apart like strands of saliva pulled away by water. Anguished cries erupted from the Muyaza on the shore. And the river reclaimed its territory with a powerful thrust. It swept Malja from her horse. It ripped Tommy from her grasp. Water spun her, flipped her, tossed her aside. She couldn't tell which way was up, and each time she thought she had it right, the river spun her into disorientation again.

She smacked into a rock, her back scrapping against the jagged surface, the force of the blow knocking out what little air she had in her lungs. And then — light. A glint of sunlight from above. Pushing off the rock, she swam hard for the surface. Her lungs burned, and a dark thought crossed her mind —
I'm not going to make it.
The surface didn't seem to be getting closer. She was going to drown. Each stroke felt as if a giant pressed its enormous fist against her ribs. But when she burst into the air, gasping for every lungful she could manage, her surprise cost her. She missed grabbing hold of a log.

Striving to stay above water, she swam hard with little to show for it. The river fought her, its unmerciful hands pushing her chest and pulling at her legs. She searched for Tommy but only saw Fawbry. He had found purchase on a large boulder and hugged it like a crying child to his mother's breast.

The river yanked Malja into its muddy jaw, filling her vision with browns and greens, grit and sand. Sounds mutated into bubbled nonsense. Three strong strokes brought her back to the surface. She spun around, seeing water and the shore and Fawbry falling away from view. Something else, too. A small, dark shape limp in the water.
Tommy.

Swimming away from the shore, Malja battled the waters for every stroke. The boy's body bumped against some rocks but did not react.
Don't think about that. Just get him.
Water crept down her throat — a dirty trick of the river, but as she coughed and spit, she swam. She saw Tommy on that thief's ship, his cautious eyes, his small hand in hers as she made her promise. So she swam. Deeper into the river's angry flow.

Bracing on a nearby rock, she grabbed the body. Blood drenched it as much as water. She turned him over. Not Tommy. The Muyaza litter carrier — cracked open his skull on the rocks.

As she dropped the Muyaza back into the current, she saw the shattered litter within reach. It took several tries, but she snagged it and floated her way downriver.

Soon the waters began to ease, and the river's grip relaxed. She paddled toward shore — it took a hard effort, but the river put up less of a fight.

A dark stone formed in her belly. As she stepped out of the river, her assault suit dotted with beads of water, her body dry, her long hair sopping wet, she bit back against the urge to cry. Still no Tommy.

Her eyes scanned the river once more. She saw the small figure of Fawbry leaping from his mama boulder to the river's edge. One foot landed in the water and he scrambled the rest of the way to safety. Nothing else. Nobody. Not even the horse.

"Over here," a breathless voice called out.

Malja looked behind her. About twenty feet inland, Tumus waved for help as she bent over a small body. Despite her exhaustion, Malja sprinted across the grass. The stone in her belly lifted to her chest where fear and hope tugged at each other like two wild animals ravaging the same piece of meat.

Tommy lay underneath Tumus. She slapped his face, trying to bring normal color back to his bluish skin. Pushing Tumus aside, Malja sat Tommy up and reached around him from behind. She squeezed hard just below his ribs, hoping to force out anything. Brackish water vomited from him with each squeeze. By the time Fawbry had joined them, Tommy had coughed the last out and began to breathe.